Johnston, the lawyer, was a shifter. Trina could tell right off the bat.

Brock Justice, the guy from the bar who claimed he didn't like fruity drinks, served as the witness to them, signing and agreeing to the marriage on paper.

Johnston had gotten down to business, explaining every term for her when she'd asked. Brock never cracked a smile. In fact, it seemed that he was against the arrangement.

Something she learned was that shifters who identified with a pack did nothing to hide their true nature. Many of her loyal customers at the dry cleaners were shifters since the business was located so close to a pack home. By now she knew how to pick them out of the bunch. They didn't look so different on the outside, but sometimes their instincts and mannerisms gave them away. She had an advantage, though. Before her dad lost both legs in the car accident, he volunteered regularly at a wildlife rescue facility. He'd tell her stories of his adventures in saving animals from near-death experiences. In the past, she'd gone with him numerous times to care for the animals.

"This document represents the prenuptial agreement. It basically says that should the marriage end, and it will, nothing will be gained. All parties are left the same as when they entered the marriage with the exception of the prior agreement that you've made with Magnus. He keeps the land and you keep your cash. Understood?"

Trina looked from Johnston to the document. It was a one-page document stating in expanded form what he'd just told her. She suspected that had this been a marriage to a human under normal circumstances the document would have been ten times as long and required much more attention on her part. The simplistic manner in which the terms were presented on the document told her that the shifters were more direct and forward in their approach. They left out the fluff.

Brock cleared his throat and nudged Dane's side. They got up and retreated into the other room.

She was no dummy and knew they were discussing her and the agreement Dane was about to sign. One would think they would have talked about this before Dane decided to do this. Even if they had, it seemed Brock still had reservations.

"Those boys have always been indecisive. Even as young pups," the lawyer commented after a moment of silence.

"Then you've known Dane a while?"

"Since the day he was born." Johnston stroked his chin. "He was a good kid back then. Never got into any trouble. Things change when you're faced with whether you want to just get by in life or live your life. I don't blame him for what he did and joining his brothers on their rampages from state to state. The majority of us don't. He's still a good man. And he does what's necessary to protect his pack."

Trina's lips parted on a question. There were many questions running through her brain. Dane and Brock returned so she never got to ask the lawyer about anything.

Dane picked up his pen and motioned for Johnston to continue. Johnston slid the first prenuptial agreement back across the table.

Dane signed the document and she so did she. The next agreement detailed how and when the marriage would end and there was even one that bound her to confidentiality, prohibiting her from discussing the arrangement during or after the marriage. The final piece was the marriage agreement.

Her attention lingered on the clause that said the marriage was considered valid after six weeks under human laws and only valid when the male marked the woman under shifter laws. And they needed to validate the marriage both ways because of how they weren't really officially mated. He needed his mother's land but had to legally marry a human to do so and he needed his pack's recognition. His pack would not recognize the marriage without seeing the mark. The lawyer had made all of this clear.

Trina felt as though she were signing her life away, but in reality, all the agreements were set to end in less than two months from now. She'd give away two months of her life if it meant that her dad could enjoy the rest of his life and be happy.

After Johnston and Brock left, they both sat behind the solid oak writing desk side by side.

"My mother was a journalist," he finally said out of the blue, running his fingers through the cracks and ridges of the desk. "She'd write all her articles here by hand. I remember going with her to the city to deliver them to the newspaper and magazine companies."

"What was her name?"

"Debra Smyth. Her father grew corn, wheat, and barley on the land before he passed on. It was his business. There were plans to revamp harvesting when my father took my mother as a mate, but they passed on before any of it could be done. All the paperwork, even the one with my mother's will, was left in shambles."

"Was there anything you could have done to carry on the business?"

"I was thirteen. Even under human laws, I couldn't legally sign a thing. Plus, I was a shifter. Had I been a human, the rights would have reverted to me when I turned eighteen."

"You were really young when you lost your parents. It was so hard for me losing one, but I can't imagine how it felt losing both at such a young age."

"I coped. I have half-brothers who are all full-blood shifters. Brock is one of them. In fact, he's the oldest out of all of us. They took me under their wings and taught me how to be a man. I became a wolf without a pack as my brothers had split from Aspen Valley Pack years before my parent's death. I joined their outlaw group and I had a family again."

"Outlaw group?" She gasped. "You mean the wolf groups who roam from state to state and protest against the government."

On a weekly basis, the news anchors were always talking about wolf groups protesting for more rights. There were those groups that were organized and presented their protests to the U.S. President in a business manner, and then there were those groups who demonstrated their discontentment by force and other actions.

He nodded. "Besides my wolf pack, they are the only family I have."

"Then you're still a member?"

"I am. I fund and advocate their activities."

"I understand." His involvement in an outlaw group must have been the risk he referred to yesterday.

"If you ever have a question about who is loyal to me, ask to see their emblem or mark."

Dane lifted his shirt, revealing a dark tattoo on his upper chest above his heart. The same one's she'd glimpsed while they'd had sex. She'd paid no mind to them then, but now they were the topic of discussion. The pattern was intricate, almost like a crest. A wolf pack crest. She'd never seen this one before, but she understood that physical marks among the shifters remained hidden from human eye.

Trina placed her finger on his tattoo. His flesh was raised slightly in the same pattern, which indicated to her that this was more than some tattoo. She heard Dane's sharp intake of breath as she traced the lines on his chest. Her fingers glided smoothly along the ridges of hard muscle and flesh. There was a smooth and almost invisible coating of hair, or maybe fur, on his chest. As her fingers and gaze dropped lower, the hair grew dense and darker and led a trail from his belly button into the waistband of his jeans.

"You're no different than a human man," she whispered her thoughts loudly.

His eyes glossed over when she traced her fingers back upward. The fine mist of hair covering him had to have been fur.

Dane took her hand and pressed her palm against his heart. "I'm a real man, Trina. My make-up is different, but I feel and crave and think the same way any real man would. My heartbeat is a bit quicker and my blood runs a little faster…and that is all for the sake of maintaining the wolf within me. My body works harder to sustain both."

"The man and the wolf."

His pulse beat rapidly against her palm and his hand over hers was hot, yet soft to the touch.

"You really want this land, don't you? No matter what it costs you?"

"No matter what it costs. I'm not partial to things being taken away from me, especially when there is something I can do to prevent it."

"Then we definitely understand each other in that regard."

He offered his hand. "I've been told I'm a good cook. Why don't we have a nice dinner, talk, and then take it from there."

There was more to this man than met the eye. She just had this feeling and she wasn't quite sure if it was all good or all bad.